Hitchhiker's Hero
by Pensez-a-Erik
Summary: Christine had never planned on hitchhiking... but when it led to her meeting the prettiest girl imaginable, she couldn't quite regret her decision. Megstine.


It was on a dusty curb just barely two hours out of Denver that Christine finally gave up. Knees digging into the dry dirt below, she brushed her hair back with a hand and squinted at the horizon. She adjusted her backpack of belongings on her shoulders, sighing. The sun was bright against the skyline, slowly sinking into the earth and stretching shadows across the road.

There wasn't much out there in the way of shade or water. The last gas station she'd passed had been forever ago and her tongue was dry, lips cracked and feet sore.

It was an incredibly hot summer's day, despite the sun not being in the middle of the sky anymore (though the afternoon had been incredibly intolerable) the heat still seemed to waft off the ground and cause her hair to stick to her forehead with perspiration.

She was never gonna get out of Colorado on foot. That much was becoming very, very clear to her.

She squinted against the horizon as something bright glinted back at her. A van, she realized, was driving towards her. Throughout her journey onto the highway she'd encountered few other people. A few cars had passed by early on while it was still morning, but she'd ignored them after the second had cat-called her as she passed by.

Arms folded at her chest, she stared at the oncoming vehicle with uncertainty. This van would most likely be the last person she would find for the rest of the day, and she could not stay alone walking by herself. She needed assistance to get out of this place. If only she'd planned her escape from Denver better!

Christine swallowed, slowly rising to her feet and stepping closer to the road. A cloud of dust hailed behind the van as it neared, blocking the glaring sun from her eyes. One arm wrapped around her waist, she hesitantly raised her arm.

This person could be anyone, she thought to herself. A murderer. This is how girls end up dead in a ditch, you know.

But if she didn't ask for help she would undoubtedly die. Perhaps she had no choice but to end up in a ditch.

But maybe-- just maybe this person could be okay. It could be some nice old woman driving it, who would give her a lift and drop her off unharmed. Unmurdered.

She stuck out her thumb and waited.

The van was close enough to read out the license plate of, now. It was from California, in some town she'd never heard of. It slowed to a halt in front of her, and she retracted her arm and stared up at the shotgun seat door.

The window rolled down, Fleetwood Mac's Rockin' Boogie floated out from within the van, and her heart dropped to her stomach when a blonde man leaned out, peering down at her. His eyes were bright blue, hair cut short but still fell in his face.

"Hi," he said.

"Uh. Hi." she shuffled her feet.

"You need a ride?" he asked, tilting his head.

Her gaze drifted again to the empty stretch of road before her, and she found herself replying 'yeah' to his question before she even registered what she was saying. The passenger door opened up, and a hand reached out to help her out. She accepted, and found herself seated next to a petite brunette, who grinned assuringly at her. She couldn't help but relax a little bit. If another girl was there, the chances she'd be dismembered were probably a lot lower.

"Don't worry," she said as Christine closed the door and leaned into the leather seat. "We're not crazies. Though Raoul's kind of a weirdo." She jerked her thumb over at the man in the front seat. Raoul.

"Hey! That's so rude," he gasped in mock-offense. The van started up again and rumbled down the road, leaving behind her resting spot almost immediately.

She shrugged. "It's true. Anyway, I'm Meg." she held out her hand, which Christine shook.

"Christine," she said.

"It's nice to meet you, Christine. Where are you headed?" Raoul glanced at her through the rear-view mirror. "We're going to New York."

She perked up at that. After all her misfortunes, she finally struck luck with something, at least. "I'm heading there too!" she replied, "There's better opportunities, I've heard."

"Yeah, it's a pretty neat city," Meg said. "I'm a Manhattan native, but Raoul is from Santa Monica, California. He's never been to the city before, so I decided to introduce him with a bang, y'know? We're going to Woodstock."

"The music concert? You guys got tickets? That's so cool." She'd been quite interested in it, actually, and had even looked into tickets at one point, but they had been definitely out of her price range. Her heart had ached for her father then, for it would have been something he would have been excited for. He'd always been a man for concerts, taking her to as many as he could whenever they could afford it. With him gone, though, she was stretched paycheck to paycheck.

"I can't wait," Raoul said. "It's gonna be awesome."

XXxxXX

She settled in with the two fairly quickly, comfortably fitting in with ease. Raoul was really sweet and polite (in hindsight, it was hilarious that she'd had even the slightest suspicion he was a murderer. The guy wouldn't hurt a fly) and Meg kept her giggling the next few hours with her sharp, sarcastic quips. It had been a long time since she'd felt as at home with other people as easily as she did with them.

"Sooo," she asked, two hours since her arrival. "I'm just curious, and sorry if this is too personal of a question but... are you two a thing? Like, dating?" Their frequent jests towards one another certainly felt like flirting. It wouldn't be such a stretch.

Meg and Raoul cast a glance towards each other, and promptly burst into laughter.

"Me and her?" Raoul wiped a tear from his eye, "God, that's rich. I think Meg would rather swallow dish soap than date me."

"Damn right I would," she tilted back a beer, leaning back and straightening her red flannel top. "Raoul is not my type. Guys. Ew."

Christine's cheeks burned as Meg caught her gaze for a few moments and crooking an eyebrow, then looked back down to her glass. "Ah. M-my bad then. I wasn't sure. Sorry."

"Eh, it's fine." Meg shrugged. "We get asked that a lot. We're definitely only friends. Not to mention that doofus here has a girlfriend of his own back home. Just hit their one year anniversary and stuff."

"Really? Congrats!"

"Thanks," he grinned, and skipped a song on the cassette that was playing throughout the car. They'd moved on from Fleetwood Mac to Simon Garfunkel. Meg was beginning to sing along with some of the words, leaning against the window. The stars above reflected in her eyes when she tilted her head a certain way.

At that point it was dark enough that the high beams were the only thing keeping the road illuminated. The cloud of dust that followed behind them wherever they drove was no longer visible in the dark. In the front seat, Raoul's eyes were beginning to droop. He blinked, exhausted, at the road in front of them.

"Hey," Meg said, tapping him on the shoulder. "How 'bout we pull over and catch some sleep? Don't want you passing out at the wheel again."

"Yeah," he agreed, and the van rumbled a bit as it left the road for the grassy curb. He cracked the windows open for ventilation. Meg handed up a blanket from the back.

"There's only two," she explained to Christine apologetically, "But you can have it."

"We could share," Christine offered instead. "I don't mind."

Judging from Meg's bleary smile, she appreciated it as they both huddled beneath the blanket. It was chillier now that it was night time, especially when compared to the stifling warmth of the afternoon. She was grateful for Meg's body heat.

The seat was tilted back to act as a make-shift bed of sorts, and while it wasn't ideal, it was infinitely times better than the cold ground where'd she'd been assuming to make her bed earlier, before she hitchhiked.

Crickets chirped outside, dotted with the occasional howl of a distant coyote. Raoul's soft snores echoed from the front seat. Meg shifted from where she lay to face Christine, only a hair's length away from her face. She could feel her soft breath on her cheek.

Meg's murmur was quiet and low and sent slight tingles up her back. "If you don't mind me asking," she tilted her head. "How exactly did you end up walking an hour out of Denver? In the middle of practically nowhere."

A sheepish smile crept onto Christine's face. "I was trying to reach a Kansas City to start, I didn't realize how far away it was, I must've misread my map. I know someone up in Kansas City, I was going to borrow money to help me get to New York. I'm broke."

"That's not a very well-thought out plan," she said, "What if we hadn't found you?"

"I would've kept walking to Kansas City, I guess. I was so stifled in Denver. I needed to get out of there as soon as possible." Her voice cracked slightly, and the playful gleam in Meg's eyes faded slightly. She'd grown up in Denver, but after a certain point following her father's death… she just couldn't stay there. The city was drowning her with memories of her father, and the money slowly dwindled until there was nothing left. She couldn't find any jobs.

"Well. I'm glad we picked you up then. You're kinda cool, Christine."

She didn't know what else to say to that, or to Meg's sudden, shy grin. Her lips, so close to her own were all she could see. Her mouth felt dry.

"Goodnight," Meg said after a long moment, lowering her head to the seat and tugging the blankets up to her chin. The revere was broken.

"Good night," she said back, and closed her eyes.

XXxxXX

She awoke that morning in Kansas City.

The large buildings were a welcome change from the neverending fields of nothingness, and for a moment she stared at all the towers and people around.

"Hey, you're up!" Raoul sat in the passenger seat, now. Meg had taken over driving. An odd sense of disappointment welled in Christine's stomach. "You slept like a rock. Meg was worried you were dead."

"You were out cold, man," Meg giggled, meeting her gaze in the mirror. "Rise and shine!"

Christine brushed back her hair, sorting through her backpack for her deodorant, discreetly applying it while Meg and Raoul were busy muttering to each other about bad drivers. She was beginning to stink, after all. She tied her hair back with a hair tie- her curly locks were beginning to feel grimy, but there wasn't much about that she could do until she was able to shower again.

"Hey Christine, how do you feel about McDonalds for lunch?"

Lunch? A quick glance down at her watch proved that it was 11:30. She really had slept in.

"Uh, sure. Yeah. I'm not picky."

"Cool. There's one nearby, I've stopped at the one here a few times while driving through in the past. I remember the way, Raoul, don't worry. You don't have to get out the map."

After driving through the streets for around ten minutes, they finally arrived at the fast food place. Her stomach was beginning to rumble, and it would be nice to finally stretch her legs. The van was beginning to feel a little cramped.

Meg was attempting to straighten her ruffled shirt as they settled in their booth. "I'm so tired of sleeping in a car," she huffed. "My clothes are all wrinkled. I look like a raisin."

To Christine she looked gorgeous, but she didn't say that, of course. She only sipped her ice water and glanced down at her lap.

Their server broke the silence by coming over to take their orders, before leaving them alone once more.

Raoul spoke up. "We could sleep in a motel tonight. I don't mind, and I really need to shower. What do you think, Christine?"

"About the showering part, or the motel?" she wrinkled her nose.

He laughed. "Both, I guess."

"Well… I think staying in a motel sounds nice. As to showering, I think we all could use a good shower."

After their meal the trio headed straight for the nearest motel (Raoul was able to pull out his map again, much to his delight) and checked in.

At the front desk Meg turned to Christine.

"D'you want your own room, or share with me? You'd get your own bed, of course, but I don't really mind either way."

Christine's heart leapt a little at the question, and she quickly squashed the feeling down.

"Uh, we can share, it's okay," she choked out. Meg nodded and she tried in vain to hide her blush. Why was she acting like some bashful little schoolgirl? It was ridiculous. She was ridiculous.

And it was also ridiculous the way heat flushed through her when Meg tucked her hair behind her ear and gave her a sideways glance, eyebrow raising ever so slightly as if she could read her mind. She was so pretty, though, that it almost hurt.

Christine was glad to have a distraction as they walked to their room, a little thing on the second floor. Meg said she could choose her bed first, so she plopped her stuff down on the bed closest to the restroom, away from the front door. Meg left the door open an inch to air out the room. It was rather stale inside.

"I'm gonna take a shower… and after that maybe a walk," she grabbed another pair of clothes from her backpack, stepping in the direction of the small bathroom. It was more of a hole in a wall than anything.

It was amazing to finally take a shower finally, though. She was grimy, and desperately needed one. (A small part of her wanted to look nice for Meg, but that was most definitely not why she wanted to change her clothes and wash her hair. Of course not.)

After her shower she came out to find Meg lounging on her stomach on top of her bed, flicking through the channels on television. The news popped up, and she wrinkled her nose.

"There's nothing on," Meg tilted her head at her. "How was your shower? Any roaches in the tub?"

"No, heh. Thankfully. It was nice. Uh, but if you want, we could go to the pool. There's one out back."

Meg shifted to her knees, swinging her legs over the side of the bed. "I thought you were gonna go on a walk?"

"Don't really feel like it." She didn't really know the area enough to walk by herself.

"I heard this place is haunted anyway. A ghost, spooky, right? I'll go with you swimming."

Christine laughed. "A ghost, here? They probably just tell people that to get more tourists."

It gave her an excuse to linger closer to Meg as they walked out to the pool, though. Raoul chose not to join them, citing exhaustion from all the driving earlier.

"Do I look okay in this swimsuit?" Meg twisted, peering down at her two-piece suit. It cut off at the midriff and had a white floral pattern.

"You look gorgeous," Christine's filterless mouth said before she could think. Of course, it was true. Christine hadn't ever really been one to lie.

"Thanks," she looked at her for a moment with a small smile, before curtailing her gaze to the pool. "Race you in!"

And so she did and pretended that she'd never said anything at all. She could feel Meg's gaze on her whenever she thought that she wasn't looking, however, and tried not to think anything of the definitely accidental brushes of Meg's hand against hers whenever they swam next to each other.

They didn't really speak much that night after that. Dinner was just bags of junk food from a nearby vending machine and bottled water, and then Christine was out cold at 11 pm.

XXxxXX

They were in an expanse of nothing between Missouri and Pennsylvania, their next destination. Raoul had found a small picnicking spot on their map that was only slightly off the road they had to travel on, so he'd pulled them over to have a break to eat and stretch their legs before continuing.

Christine was laying on the ground, staring up at the sky. She'd already finished her sandwich.

Meg was sitting on a picnic table, hand wrapped tightly around a bottle as she tipped it back and emptied it. She'd been in an odd mood since Kansas City, one that Christine wasn't quite sure what to make of. She didn't seem mad at her, judging from the way she directed her complete attention whenever she spoke, just seemed… distant. Lost in her thoughts, with the occasional glance in her direction.

Another empty beer bottle hit the chipped wood. An exhausted sigh. Raoul got up to take a quick nap in the van.

"I'll feel better once we're in New York," Meg exhaled, rubbing her face. "I just wanna go to Woodstock, man. It's so hot out here."

"Sorry," Christine offered sympathetically. "I'm sure it'll all be worth it one you've arrived there, though." But then she wouldn't see Meg ever again, as they would be busy with their concert and then he'd leave and she'd go.

Meg spoke up again, distracting her from her mournful thoughts. "Do you like music, Christine?"

"W-what? I guess. I mean, who doesn't like music?"

A pause. "No, like, really like music. Do you?"

She shifted up from her spot on the ground, brushing grass and leaves from her hair. "I suppose. I used to take singing lessons to get better, and I can play the violin alright."

"Used to take singing lessons? Why did you stop?" She was looking at her, now. The old bench creaked as she stood up to lower herself next to her. Only inches away.

"My dad died."

"Oh. I'm sorry."

"It's fine," Christine turned to her. "You like music though. You're going to Woodstock! That's pretty cool."

Meg smiled again. "Yeah, it's gonna be fantastic. I still really wish you could go, though. It would be really fun with you."

Meg's fingers twitched next to hers. She glanced down at their hands, so close on the grass beside each other. Meg leaned over ever-so-slightly, and her hair touched Christine's arm, and their eyes met.

"You have the most beautiful eyes, do you know that?" the other girl murmured, tone low enough to cause a heady warmth to pool in her belly. "Like… cobalt. They're so pretty." You're so pretty.

Their lips were so close, the longing so strong that it almost hurt. Meg was close enough now to touch, it would only take a slight tilt upwards of her head for their lips to touch, only an inch for her to cup her face--

"Hey, I'm back," Raoul trampled back into the clearing, carrying another pack of beer. Meg and Christine immediately scooted away from each other as if nothing had happened. Her face reddened.

"Is… everything alright?" he glanced from girl to girl, crooking an eyebrow.

Meg nodded, meeting Christine's gaze for such a fleeting second that she perhaps might have imagined it. "Yup. Yeah. Everything's fine. We were just talking about… Woodstock. How excited we are."

"It's gonna be fun." The beer pack was lowered onto the table.

"Yeah."

Awkward silence. She could only imagine what Raoul was thinking.

"Soooo should we stay for a little longer, or are you two ready to head back out on the road?"

Both of them almost in unison chose the van again. She needed a few hours of silence to gather her thoughts-- her head was in a spin. She couldn't get the image of their hands, so close together out of her mind.

Meg closed her eyes and leaned away against the window as soon as they were settled in, and the van began to chug down the road. Christine didn't think she was really asleep.

XXxxXX

Everything came to a heady climax the following night, in an open field in Pennsylvania. They were camping out one last time before they'd reach New York the following morning, and finally were making use of their sleeping bags.

A little campfire lay in the middle, the three bags spread out around at a safe distance. Raoul had fallen asleep, it had to have been nearing midnight by then.

The fire crackled as Meg poked a stick at it, legs bent from beneath her blanket. Christine sat next to her, knees pulled up to her chest. Light illuminated their faces. The night was cold behind them, yet the fire felt warm and safe.

"Can I ask you a question?" Meg wasn't looking at her, still pushing at the log with her stick, watching sparks fly with a passive expression.

"...sure."

The covers shifted as she turned to face her, eyes meeting hers. "Maybe I'm totally wrong, but you like girls, don't you?"

Christine's heart beat rapidly in her ears, blood racing in a quick rush to her face. She swallowed and tried to look anywhere else than her. How did she find out? How did she know? It was all over now, Meg would recoil in disgust, degrade her, spurn her, leave her forever, and it would be over.

She would die.

"Well, I-I don't dislike girls," she whispered.

"That's not what I meant," she shook her head, "I mean, like, like girls."

The covers shifted again, and suddenly there was a light touch on her arm, a soft body not-quite-touching-hers but still so terribly close. She nearly ascended right then and there.

"Christine… you can't tell me I've been misinterpreting all of this. You-- you called me gorgeous."

She replied, hesitantly, "You are gorgeous."

A wide grin. "You don't mean that platonically, do you?"

She shook her head, growing slightly bolder. "No. God no. You're a lesbian too, though, right? I could tell the moment I met you."

Meg laughed, then quickly covered her mouth and glanced over at Raoul, still sleeping on the other side of the fire. "Only a blind person would mistake me for a straight girl. I did tell you that I thought guys were gross the first day we met, you know."

"You did." A pause. "I wasn't kidding about the earlier part, too. You are so gorgeous."

The most beautiful girl on earth smiled at her again, then leaned forward and pressed her lips against hers. Those lips that she had never been able to get out of her mind. Those lips that haunted her dark dreams, the ones that caused her to jolt awake at night. They were kissing her. Her!

She let out a muffled moan, and leaned forward to wrap her arms and Meg's neck. Two hands found their way to her waist. Meg was suffocating, intoxicating, so incredibly feminine that she could simply curl up and wrap herself in the warm and perfection of her. She was a goddess, a sapphic star to worship and admire.

They fell asleep in one another's arms, and the world around them ceased to move.

XXxxXX

Raoul had been aware all along, apparently. He showed no shock when he awoke to find the two of them, curled up together in one sleeping bag. Christine had jumped when she saw he was watching them.

"I-it's not what you--" she'd begun, but he'd waved his hand nonchalantly. Meg, still blearly from sleeping, giggled softly.

"I already about all of it. You two finally admitted your feelings to one another? Thank god. The sexual tension was getting thick enough to cut with a knife!"

She and Meg sat in the backseat of the van the rest of the drive to New York, and they arrived in Newark in the afternoon, driving past their original destination of Bethel.

"It's fine," when Meg protesting. "We're not letting you hitchhike the rest of the way, Christine. You might get picked up by some sketchy people. You just got really lucky with us." She poked her teasingly.

Yet it was still melancholic as they dropped her off at the hotel where she was to stay for a few days as she found work. She could almost hear the words going through Meg's head as they stared at one another, for they were going through hers as well. What next? Do they simply go on the way things were planned, before their lives converged? Or what?

Gentle hands took hers, and she met Meg's gaze slowly.

"Hey," the brunette said, "After Woodstock ends… I wanna see you again. Even if its just for a cup of coffee or-- or something. Is that okay?"

It was more than just okay. "Yeah. I'd love that." she replied a little bit too quickly. From the smile that she gave in response, Meg didn't seem to mind.

"On the 19th," she said. "Maybe at say… 1 pm? I know a really great place I'd love to show you. Meet me there?"

She gave her the address, and they hugged. Christine clung to her. She never wanted to let go. She bid Raoul a goodbye and a hug as well, and then they were gone, vanishing down the road and around a corner. In the blink of an eye.

XXxxXX

They did end up meeting that Tuesday, at a little cafe nestled in Manhattan. It was a pleasant place, with good coffee that was made even better with her company. They decided to return the following week. And the week after, and the week after, and the week after.


End file.
